


the things that you do

by orderlyhouse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Furbies, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Podfic Welcome, Pre-Apocalypse, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlyhouse/pseuds/orderlyhouse
Summary: “Hang on,” He said. “You’re saying… You actually made this?!”In which Aziraphale is responsible for Furbies.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 88





	the things that you do

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a comic from [this tumblr post.](https://lyghtbulb.tumblr.com/post/189483564918/good-omens-doodles-from-september-they-love)

_31 December 2005_

Crowley wasn’t doing 90 miles an hour in Central London.

In fact, he wasn’t doing a single mile right now, for the reason of… Well, what reason could there be aside from the fact that it was almost eight in the evening, on a Saturday night, on a New Year’s Eve, _in Central London_?

There was, however, a reason he was stuck in the traffic in the first place.

They have always celebrated the New Year together, him and Aziraphale, since they’ve settled in relatively close proximity of London to each other, and the tradition was only temporarily broken by Crowley’s prolonged nap and the years after that when none of each could speak up first.

Maybe it wasn’t always like this, just like Central London hasn’t always known car traffic. Still, the routine they followed for the last couple of years, if not decades, for this day was: they would go to a restaurant with a good wine card that was suggested by Aziraphale (or, rather, _Crowley would take him out_ , even if it was never said out loud), and after that they’d go to see the fireworks, either driving closer to the South Bank or searching for the highest roof available, accompanied with champagne for midnight.

That was the plan for tonight, Crowley thought, if only the blasted traffic could move.

It was half-past eight in the evening when he finally walked in Aziraphale’s bookshop.

The shop was closed, as usual, but the lights were on, and he knew he was welcome even without knocking.

He found Aziraphale in the backroom, stacks of paper by his sides on the loveseat he was occupying, and some more on the small table between him and the armchair.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale smiled when he spotted him, looking at Crowley above his reading glasses. “I’m sorry, my dear, but could you wait for a moment? I’m almost finished.” He lowered his eyes back to another stack of paper in his lap that he was presumably filling out. “You can help yourself to anything you like.”

Crowley hummed and nodded. It wasn’t a good idea to help himself to what he _really_ wanted since he was about to drive, so he mused he would wander the bookshop and see if Aziraphale got any new books (as new as the antique ones can be), when he spotted it.

There was something else on that small table, right on the stack of papers. It was an open brown postal box, with craft paper in a similar colour peeking out of it. Beside it, there was another, much smaller box in blue and yellow, and next to it was… the thing.

The thing was round, white, covered in fluffy faux fur, and had big ears, or at least something that could logically pass as ears on a thing like that, with a mop of pink fur between them.

Crowley circled the table to pick it up, noting that it was slightly bigger than both of his palms were together, had a pink-furred belly and closed long-lashed eyes.

“What’s this, then?” He asked, trying to turn it sideways to have a better understanding, when the thing opened its automated eyes (pink?!) and let out a gibberish noise, making Crowley flinch.

“Oh, do be careful with it, please, I’m not entirely sure these things can survive meeting the floor,” Aziraphale said, still engrossed in his paperwork.

“So what is it, then?” Crowley repeated his question, still turning the thing while it continued to make noises.

“It’s just something Heaven wanted to see. Supposed to be a good thing, and children love it, apparently.”

Crowley looked over on the smaller box. “ _Furby_.” He read aloud, realising how incredulous he sounded. Well, the whole thing looked ridiculous.

He held the thing – _the toy_ , apparently – in one hand, while studying the box. The box called it a “friend”, showing various moods the toy can express and daring the viewer to press its tummy, which Crowley did.

The thing laughed, fluttering its eyes with mechanical sound.

“You can also pet it on the back,” Aziraphale said behind him, meeting Crowley’s eyes when he spun around.

At that, the thing purred, looking content.

“Is this what you’re on about?” Crowley asked. “Writing about… whatever _that_ is supposed to be for Heaven when the best it can do is speak gibberish and make noises when _we_ have a reservation?”

“Well, right now is exactly the time, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale went back to his forms. “They’ve sold well over Christmas again, and it’s the newest model. I didn’t do a report on the first one, for that matter.”

“The first one? You mean this _sells_? _Again_?!”

“Well, yes.” Aziraphale looked at him curiously. “It’s been around for seven years now, Crowley, and the first model had the biggest success.”

“Seven—“ This was ridiculous. Seven years of a thing that looks and acts like that, and overall sells _really well_ , and he’s never heard of it, let alone received some kind of commendation for inducing wrath by annoying some unfortunate parents in mass quantities?

“And it doesn’t only speak its language,” Aziraphale continued. “This one just doesn’t know much English as of now. There’s a manual in the box if you want.”

Crowley rummaged the box for a thin manual book, finding a plastic spoon alongside it. He looked at the toy once more.

“This is terrifying, you know.” He said flatly.

Aziraphale frowned slightly. “Well, dear, I tried my best.”

Crowley blinked, although it didn’t happen often nowadays and nobody has seen it because of his shades, but he knew he did. He looked at the box once more.

“Hang on,” He said, looking at the back of it, right at the picture of the same toy he was holding, but its eyes were blue and fur completely white everywhere, and overall it looked a lot like— “You’re saying… You actually made this?!”

He knew he must have looked shocked even if his eyes weren’t visible, but when he lifted his head to look at Aziraphale he caught a glimpse of his eyes before the angel darted them to the side and blushed, _actually blushed_.

“Well,” Aziraphale repeated. “It’s not as if I’ve done it myself, I might’ve just inspired a couple of overseas developers and—“ He looked at Crowley again. “Oh, Crowley, don’t look at me like that. Upstairs wanted something that would bring the children joy, and how can a good toy fail at that?”

Crowley huffed in disbelief. The— _Furby_ in his hands was blinking more often now, so he petted it again. “So what else can this do?” He asked as if Aziraphale hasn’t told him to look for himself a minute ago.

“A lot of things.” The angel replied. “Ask it to tell a joke.”

“Ugh,” Crowley said eloquently, looking down at the thing again. “Tell a joke?”

Nothing happened.

“You have to address it,” Aziraphale said after a brief pause.

“Huh?” Crowley let out. “These have names?”

“Not this model, I don’t think so, but they all have one name.”

Crowley suppressed a sigh. “Okay, _Furby_ ,” He said, darting Aziraphale a glance that went amiss since the angel was busy with paperwork all this time. “Tell a joke.”

“Knock-knock.” It responded, to Crowley’s surprise.

“You have to answer it,” Aziraphale said quickly, in a quieter voice.

“Who’s there?”

“Dina.”

“Dina who?”

“Dinner time!” The toy said before laughing and breaking into gibberish again. Crowley shook his head, looking up at Aziraphale.

“Now I’m certain it came from Heaven.” He said, chuckling when he saw Aziraphale trying to suppress a smile and concentrate on the papers.

They spent some moments like that, Aziraphale writing while Crowley petted the toy once more before discovering that turning it upside down caused it voiced distress.

“You can also feed it,” Aziraphale said suddenly.

“What? How?”

“There’s a spoon,” Aziraphale answered. “Or you can just put your finger in its mouth.”

“My what? I’m not doing that.” Crowley said incredulously, feeling off about the whole thing, and oh, apparently, that was Aziraphale’s moment to laugh.

“It is quite nice, though,” The angel said, moving the stack of paper from his lap and standing up. “They did a good job. I mean, it can’t replace a real friend for a child, but it seems cohesive enough to be a pet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crowley huffed. “I wonder what other great things it can tell me.”

“It’s actually able to express emotions,” Aziraphale said, looking in the mirror to adjust his tie. “You just have to express yours.”

“Um,” Crowley said, looking down at the toy.

“Here, let me,” Aziraphale said, taking it out of Crowley’s hands. “Furby, I love you.”

The toy fluttered its eyes and moved its ears, giggled, and said: “Me love you more!”

Aziraphale laughed and looked at Crowley. “See?”

There were no other responsive noises Crowley could conjure at that moment, nor there were any words. He nodded silently, accepting the toy back and scolding himself mentally that he was jealous _of a toy, of a Heaven-sent one_ on top of that, and the implication of that was certainly something to dwell on later.

“Could you turn it off?” Crowley asked when the toy continued to make noises while they were about to leave.

Aziraphale took the toy from him again, placing it on the table and willing it to go to sleep before going to get his coat.

Crowley watched it snore for a moment, asking when it was finally quiet, “What’s this supposed to be, though? Some kind of a mouse?”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, walking towards him and adjusting his coat. “Do you not remember?”

“What?”

“They were there, in the Beginning.” He’s now beside Crowley, looking at the toy as well. “They weren’t well-adapted, though, and fell prey easily, so there were almost none left by the time of the Flood and, well, they didn’t make it there in the end.”

Aziraphale sounded down, just as much as he looked like he was immersed in some unpleasant memory, and this was so much like him, wasn’t it, Crowley thought, to try to preserve something rare and extinct.

“’S good.” Aziraphale looked at him incredulously, like he was about to remind him his own words he said five minutes ago, but Crowley was having none of it. “I mean, you said people liked it, and it talks and all, and it’s not that bad. I think it’s actually ahead of its time.” He smiled when their eyes met, and Aziraphale responded likewise.

“C’mon,” Crowley said and aimed at Aziraphale’s clothed wrist, but grazed his fingers against the back of the angel’s hand instead when he noticed that Aziraphale started being too invested looking at the toy again. “It’s past nine already, and we have a reservation.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. “Although we will make it in time, knowing you.”

“Doubt that,” Crowley responded, following him.

Aziraphale turned off the lights and locked the door behind them, as they left the bookshop.

**Author's Note:**

> You already know where the title comes from.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://polkanote.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] the things that you do](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385992) by [ExMarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMarks/pseuds/ExMarks)




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